The very tip of a dark rain cloud now floats its way past the sun and fades the beautiful day quickly to that of a much more gloomy one. The scene is the lovely and beautiful New York city skyline. One of the largest and most panorific views of architectural brilliance. 15 years without the World Trade Center and yet it still feels like it was the length of time that 15 shows lasted upon his return to the XWF. As is with every city that exists outside of North Korea, cars are moving by at a moderate pace. But before this starts sounding too much like a Peter Gilmour scripted promo, we must digress as we zoom in closer to the city. Arriving finally at the one, the only, the most terrific and tantalizing building in all of the world. Trump Tower. Gold lettering spells out the name of the republican nominee for president of the United States high up on the tower of a white building. Floor after floor after floor of windows stacked on top one other, rising upwards and far above the storm clouds now rolling in around the New York City skyline.

As the cameras begin to fade in closer to the building, they eventually make their way towards the parking lot. Which is an enormous garage located adjacent to the actual enormous skyscraper that is Trump Tower. Entering the parking garage on the very bottom floor is a small shit smeared green looking colored 1994 Dodge Shadow. Inside the car, is none other than Russian super secret 00-Racist Alex Jones. Makes perfect sense that this internet attention whore troll would drive such a run down piece of shit car. He's seen arguing from the inside of his shit-mobile with the ticket window attendant behind his work station. Screaming in gibberish and drooling out the window as if he were a dog, also being overly insistent that the attendant let him through the gate.

Alex Jones: "Trump! Trump! He called me! Me! Trump wants to see me! Trump! Trump! TRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUMP!"

Attendant: "Calm down, hand me your invitation and I'll let you in."

Jones shows the attendant a slip of paper that he had tucked away in the front pocket of his red and black flannel checkered shirt. The one he leaves the top three buttons undone on purpose so you can see the scraggly chest hair nestled between his man tits. Thinks he's some kind of Patrick Swayze in Roadhouse sort of thing, who knows? Someone should tell him his physique isn't quite up to par as Swayze, but whose to judge, right? Anyways, the attendant seems satisfied after Jones shows him this slip of paper and opens the gate to let him inside. Jones steps on the gas and slams right through the gate, breaking it in half, apparently too anxious to see Trump to interview him face to face to care about destroying the gate. The parking garage attendant doesn't seem to mind either, and instead just turns around and goes back to burying his face in his Playboy magazine. A phone rings inside the attendant's booth and he answers.

Attendant: "Hello? Oh it was nothing, just another redneck psycho come to see Donald again. The place is swarming with them lately as if we were running Jeff Foxworthy's own personal comedy club. Where do you want to go to lunch? Oh, well I dunno I was thinki...."

Before the poor working man can finish his sentence, a giant machete comes plunging through his midsection and tearing his abdomen in half as easily as if you were folding open a cooked baked potato. The insides of the attendant's stomach along with his internal organs come flopping out of his open wounded chest. Dying almost instantaneously and then dropping to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Behind him, wielding the blade, is none other than our dastardly super villain, Unknown Soldier! After licking the end of the blade that was dripping the blood of his innocent victim, Soldier then sheaths the sword back in it's holster that he has strapped over his back. Behind him, now making his way out from behind the corner of the shadows behind the garage and into the scene, is Doctor D'ville.

Peaking his head in to admire Soldier's craft work inside the booth. Over Doc's shoulder now, the face of Greggo leaning in looking all creepily at Doc's ear and not the disastrous murder scene. A drop of spittle of his saliva drips off the edge of his lips and into Doc's ear. Dos responds by swatting Greggo in the face and shooing him away as if he were merely a fly, practically like he were a nonexistent creature. Doc steps in the attendants booth and stands right on top of the dead corpse, he flips open a watch that when opened, magnifies a hologram of a cloaked Hillary Clinton, hovering her face downward beneath the robe all sinister like she were Darth Sidious herself. In a very cold, dark, and sadistic manner she relays a message to her Tremendous Triangle of Terror. In between a hacking and coughing spell that lasts five minutes that will edit out for 'convenience' reasons.

Hillary Clinton: "Execute. Order. 666!"

Immediately after her wicked commands the screen splits into four quadrangles of cameras. Each showing a different conservative radio talk show host tied up and being held hostage inside four different rooms. Four separate masked gunmen raise their guns to the heads of these terrified victims and blow their brains out. 666 shots to the forehead each, until they are positively and absolutely shot dead. Matt Drudge. Rush Limbaugh. Glen Beck. Sean Hannity. All kidnapped and assassinated by secret democrat Gloominati ninjas! That leaves but one final pig's house to blow down for our super SATAN! big, bad wolf!

Doctor D'ville: "Just as I suspected, Jones would show up if he thought Trump actually wanted to interview him. He bought that set up hook, line, and sinker. Hillary wanted us to take 'extra special' care of him Soldier. I'm assuming you know what she means by that."

Unknown Soldier: "Yeah, I'm gonna rape him. The kind of stuff that Frodo can only dream about kind of raping too."

Doctor D'ville: "Can't say that I don't think this racist slime ball doesn't deserve it. Proceed."

The three of them make their way through the parking garage until they eventually catch up with Jones. The racist radio talk show host who after parking his car and walking through the garage aimlessly, found a life size card board cut out version of Donald Trump. The cardboard figure was acting as if some sort of trap or decoy, and it's obviously worked as Jones was humping it like a jack rabbit upon the trios arrival. Massaging where Trump's groin area is on the fake cardboard statue. Rubbing the area with the open palm of his hand. Soldier runs up to him and restrains Jones by plunging his long pointed fingernails into the side of his neck. Soldier tosses the machete to Greggo, who then holds the blade up to Jones neck. Forcing him to comply with Soldier's demands who now has the fat Jones in a full headlock.

Alex Jones: "Help! They're here to kill me! The Gloominati! Help!"

Unknown Soldier: "Silence, Jonesy!"

Greggo slashes a chunk out of the side of Jones left cheek and immediately the cowardly bitch who acts tough bows down like a bitch. Soldier and Greggo both stare down as fat chunks of beef hang out from under his now un-tucked shirt. Jones jelly rolls hanging all out after he fell over quivering in pain after half his face was slashed off. Soldier and Greggo, drooling at the sight of their prey and in a very Devilverance movie style way Soldier says to Alex Jones.

Unknown Soldier: "Dem panties... Take'em off...."

Jones undresses completely, standing before Soldier and Greggo looking very ashamed of himself as he should. Soldier pulls out one of those costume like red stick on beards from his pocket and hands it to Jones.

Unknown Soldier: "I'm going to need you to wear this too, now, bend over bitch!"

Jones obliges to Soldier's request and sticks the red beard to his face. He bends over and Soldier hocks the biggest loogie you ever saw in your life into his right hand, which he then brings down to his groin area. He then unzips his pants and enters Alex Jones from behind. The penetration is not visible through the cameras lens. Probably because the camera man is too busy jacking off, might even be that same lazy camera guy that's whacking it while filming Peter Gilmour promos. Soldier grabs a lump of the red hair on the back of Jones head and forcefully continues violating him horrendously.

Unknown Soldier: "Say it. Say your my little war pig! Say it while you wear that beard you little bitch!"

Alex Jones: "I'm the bearded war pig!"

Unknown Soldier: "Good, that's a good little pig. Now, say I'm Lenny's girlfriend! Say it you fat disgusting pig!"

Alex Jones: "I'm Lenny's girlfriend!"

At that very moment Greggo raises the machete high over his head and snaps it back down. Decapitating Jones and removing his head like a knife through butter. Blood splatters all over the place and Soldier continues penetrating his lifeless corpse in a drunken blood orgy mess. Doc, sits back taking notes during this entire encounter. Not looking at all perturbed but more like intrigued by what he sees.

Unknown Soldier: "Why you kill him so early Greggo, that was just gettin' good!"

Greggo: "I thought maybe you had gone into some kind of rape delusional seizure or something. You started talking a bunch of nonsense about some guy named Lenny and his girlfriend."

Unknown Soldier: "Yeah, you're probably right I was getting a bit carried away there. Anyways, the deed is done, let's go get C-diff!"

Doctor D'ville: "Not yet, we have a match on Warfare first!"

Unknown Soldier: "Ah, fuck! Do we have too! I'm sick of kicking John Black, Barney Green, Peter, Mcbride, and Ghost Tank's asses all the time. Let's go get the Diff instead!"

Doctor D'ville: "Match first, then Diff."

Unknown Soldier: "FINE!"

Soldier screams at Doc like a pouting little five year old. The three assassins walk off into the shadows of the parking garage. Greggo returns shortly after a few minutes and begins skull fucking the decapitated head of Alex Jones. The scene fades out to black nothingness.


"Let's face it fuck nuggets, I haven't had much to say about the lot of you losers squared up to face myself and Doctor D'ville tomorrow night. Because quite frankly, all of you have already made the inevitable conclusion before you even opened your mouth that you weren't even going to come at me. Doc and I will be the difficult challenge you all repetitively said. All of you really should just get down on your knees and worship us by sucking our dicks, you've practically gone through the whole song and dance before we even hit the mat, by what all of you have spit out from your mouths this past week. Peter's more concerned with how our friendship USED to be important. Re-hashing all those memories way back when. Well guess what Petey, remember all the times I kicked your ass? Well, get ready to feel that thunder I brought back then times 666. Because the only thing I've been doing is being the best and I'm actually getting better at doing it. That's me everyone, your Xtreme Champion, getting better at being the best every single damn fucking day!

As for Ghost Tank coming out here just a little bit ago acting like he's some kind of Dolph Lundgren tough guy. You will break us? Come on dude, your nothing but a little bitch so when you try to quote Dolph Lundgren you fail miserably at it! Also, are you still not paying very close attention at all? Like the last time we faced off and you kept reciting that I was a two time Xtreme Champion, when in fact I'm a three! Because you keep saying that I'm not talking about you this whole time; yet, here I am STILL trying to obtain C-diff so that I can humiliate you to an end that knows no bounds. Don't you get it. My entire life story is the epitome of mocking your idiocy, ya fucking idiot!

Also, I don't need your help policing every time someone tries to pin me for my title. I understand you envy me and everything I do because I'm the Xtreme Champion, but back the fuck off dude. Seriously, it's starting to get creepy stalkerish and I'm beginning to understand why you had to find some pansexual bitch that's willing to deal with your constant neediness for attention constantly to go along with your bitchy attitude. You need a former man in your relationship to help take care of that enormous feminine side of yours, Ghost Tank!

Go back to convincing yourself that your Hart title reign is anything substantially worthwhile. Oh, you mean you've had a 97 day run rarely defending the title, and, now I'm also informed that if you've actually been a Universal Champion that your not allowed to ever hold the Hart title. So, that rules out a few here on the roster like Trax, Morbid Angel, and even my partner Doctor D'ville. So, a title that almost half the roster can't even try to obtain and one that he wont even defend against people that deserve a shot. Wow, Tank. Just --- Wow! Maybe I should put my Universal Championship cash in on hold so that I can still have the chance to torture you in your pathetic division that you wont even allow anyone else to compete in. Because your a scared and whiny little bitch! We should just re name your title to the Toilet Championship while you hold that Hart strap, because that's all your reign will ever be known as. SHIT!

I like McBitche's analogy that since I lost my Federweight title to Shaun Crow that I'm a bigger bitch than him. Well, guess who lost to me last Warfare, Mcbitch? Huh! Yeah, please fucking explain to me in your analogy what that makes you then? I think some of that Peter Gilmour stupidity is starting to rub off on you. Soon you'll just start screaming , cunt, and suck my dick out every fifth word like a with a tourette syndrome tick! Peter wants to say that he's a legit threat to take my Xtreme title. The only thing Peter's really a threat to take is the girls that look the most like dudes home that night to bone. We all have that friend. You know, the one that always tries to convince you that sleeping with the most disgusting looking bitch since Roseanne was a good idea. Yeah, sure pal, Mia Yim's not a dude. You don't need to convince me that her bulge tucked behind her pants is just a dump she took earlier in the day.

As for Bearded War Pig? Notice how he hasn't manged to even mention me after what I said about him the other night. And believe me people, this moron has had PLENTY to say this past two weeks, hasn't he? But as soon as Unknown Soldier takes a crack at him he scampers off to hide back in his pig pen so I can fry him up and cook me some bacon in the morning. Because after I'm done fucking him real good tomorrow night. I'm going to fry him up for a nice breakfast and serve it to my queen Hillary. You see, War pig here just doesn't understand what it's like to be with a strong woman. That's why he can't stand seeing me having sex with Hillary or knowing that one day soon she'll be the President of the United States ruler of the universe! That's actually a bit surprising that he doesn't know how to handle a strong woman, being as according to Tolkein that all dwarven women were know to be in some instances just as strong if not stronger than their male counterparts.

All the lot of you dick lickers will fall beneath the boot of both me and Doctor D'ville. Then it will be on to Robbie and an Arby's sandwich. If that fast food restaurant meal doesn't give me the C-diff my little heart desires. Then I don't know what else in the hell will!"